


Vamci

by Lord Vitya (ProtoDan)



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: (kinda ish), (mostly it's just me being a giant sap), Character Study, Drabble, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-28 06:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10826058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoDan/pseuds/Lord%20Vitya
Summary: Musings on the meaning ofhome.





	Vamci

_Home._

The word has changed meanings so many times that one would think it would lose its potency. It’s been at once a dark back alley, the dust-blanketed stone floor of an abandoned library, the bunk on a combat cruiser, a bedroll beneath the stars on a foreign moon, a dormitory in the desert. Yet still Vasili clings to the notion, the idea that no matter what, there will always be somewhere to come back to, somewhere to lay his body down and be, without thought or pressure or worry. 

Home.

_Vamci,_ he thinks, and the word in his own tongue conjures up memories of cold nights, huddled up against his brother to stave off the chill as they both try to sleep. Memories of sharp voices, of cramped quarters and the constant pressure to excel.

Here and now, there is no cold, there is no icy street. Under his back is a soft mattress, a pillow. A thick blanket cocoons him, and the arms folded around him…

Vasili shifts, pressing himself just a little bit closer to the warm body of his sleeping lover. Malavai’s heartbeat is slow and steady against Vasili’s chest, his breaths even, his arms an anchor. Sometime during the night, Malavai had moved so that one leg had hooked itself over Vasili’s hip, a gesture that his conscious self would no doubt consider scandalous. Vasili smiles, eyes closed, nestling his head under his lover’s chin.

When they’d first met, home had still meant cold streets and cold people; it had meant rising early and consuming the day’s rations as quickly as possible, training rigorously until the day’s work was declared over. Malavai had reminded Vasili so very, very strongly of home, to the point that listening to him speak felt like he had reopened a hole in his chest that he’d never realized was there. In hindsight, Vasili had been destined to fall from the very start.

As they’d grown closer, Vasili had started to notice the ways in which Malavai was different from his thoughts of home—the flashes of glowing heat that flared across his cheeks at a compliment, the way his eyes (gleaming, beautiful blue eyes) flashed between his lord and his work when he thought Vasili wasn’t looking, the clench of his hands if something went wrong.

The searing heat of his hands on Vasili’s cold skin.

And as they grew closer, Vasili’s vision of home began to change, from cold stones to warm hands, from an impassive red gaze to the adoring light in those blue eyes, bright as Kyber. 

Malavai murmurs something in his sleep, drawing Vasili out of his own thoughts, and his arms tighten just slightly around Vasili’s shoulders. Vasili kisses his lover’s collarbone, and Malavai stills. 

This, he thinks, _this_ is home.

**Author's Note:**

> Today has been all kinds of crap, so I'm uploading a bit of fluff somewhat ahead of schedule. You lucky, lucky bastards.


End file.
